


Going Down

by orbingarrow



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Tony Stark, Bucky's Got an Arm, Clint Barton is a Walking Disaster, Fluff, Humor, Is Jacket Porn a Thing?, M/M, Swear Words, Tony Stark Without the Suit, Tony's Mouth Gets a Workout, Tracksuit Dudes Have it Coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow
Summary: *COMPLETE*When Clint gets nabbed by the Tracksuit Mafia, Bucky and Tony are the only two Avengers available for a rescue op.   It's a shitshow from the start. Tony can't call the suit, Bucky's arm is compromised, and Clint's contribution mostly involves him humming the soundtrack to some 70s porn and making snarky comments from his wall.Unapologetic fluff, BAMF Bucky and for once Clint Barton has the right idea from the start.





	1. The Stark Genius

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a timey-wimey, non-universe specific setting. Picture some time after Civil War when the gangs back together again and most things are forgiven.
> 
>  
> 
> ***Please mind the rating change. The first two chapters are G. The third chapter hops up to an M.***

“What do you mean Barton’s missing?” Tony asked.

“He missed his check in,” Natasha said. 

“I thought he was taking the week off from Avengers-business,” Tony pointed out. “Isn’t that why he’s not with you?”

Tony watched Natasha on the viewscreen. Her body language was off. It lacked the usual confidence that threw so many villains off kilter. Bruce, Sam and Steve were visible, too, though they’d turned away to give her as much privacy as possible in their tiny hotel room. They were on assignment; Tony was not. Tony was sidelined because of a _mild_ concussion from the week before and also because (and it was unspoken-- always unspoken) no one thought it would be a good idea to leave Barnes in the tower alone.

Barnes wasn’t a security risk, exactly. It was just if everyone was gone he might not eat. He might sit outside well into the chilly night without a jacket or socks. He might stay awake for forty hours straight if no one was around to remind him to go to bed. (Though to be fair, with the gang all gone, Tony might have been just as likely to commit any of those errors against his own health.) 

Natasha was still staring at him and Tony put together what he was seeing in her posture. Worry. Real worry.

“He always checks in,” she continued.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tony said.

“Soon,” Natasha insisted. “Please.”

“What’s his last known location?”

“Bratislava,” Nat said.

“Oh good,” Tony said. “Haven’t had bryndzové halušky in ages.”

“Eat _after_ you find him. Clint’s not popular with some track-suited thugs who’ve taken up residence there. They should be easy to spot. They aren’t locals and they aren’t careful.”

“Then how did they get the jump on Barton in the first place?” Tony asked. “Clint’s the best lookout we’ve got.”

“Clint was in Bratislava to see a woman. A very pretty woman. She’s known to be trouble.”

Steve turned to look at the viewer. “You’ll need to be careful, Tony.”

“And you’ll need to avoid the appearance of Avenger involvement,” Natasha added. “You can’t go in as Iron Man. They’ll panic and they’ll kill him.”

“It’s not like people aren’t aware I’m Iron Man,” Tony pointed out. “You don’t think my presence is going to create a stir?”

“Wear a ball cap,” Steve suggested. “And glasses.”

“Right. The incognito starter kit. Great.”

“It works,” Natasha said. “Or it will work well enough.”

“We need two more days here,” Steve explained. “Wanda and Vision think they’ve found the artifact, and once they confirm it’s just a matter of breaking into the Hydra base and taking it. We’ll be in to assist as soon as we can and if it comes down to it and you need back up, we’ll scrap this mission and be there.”

“I’ve got this,” Tony assured them. “You worry about the Dark Crystal. I’ll go retrieve our Hawkeye.”

“Take Barnes with you,” Natasha says.

“He’s not field ready,” Tony and Bruce said, in almost near unison.

“Neither is Stark, but Barnes will be an asset,” Natasha said. “This is _Clint_. I want him home.”

Steve sighed, chewed his bottom lip for a second and then nodded. “Take Bucky.”

Sam turned to face the screen. “Try not to lose him. It is a real bitch finding his sulky ass.”

 

*

Tony and Bucky rarely spoke. When they did, it was with a forced politeness that came from Tony’s (unspoken-- always unspoken) ‘You killed my parents but I get now that this was not a thing you would do of your own volition and look here I made you a new arm because I feel bad that I forcibly removed the last one’ and Bucky’s (once-spoken) ‘I killed your parents and this will never stop being shameful but thanks for the arm.’

They were way past avoiding each other, at least. It wasn’t horrifically awkward for Tony to go find Bucky in the gym and explain their mission.

He expected Bucky might have some questions, or some opinions, but Bucky just nodded and walked toward the door.

“Meet on the roof in twenty?” Bucky asked, as he pulled off his shirt and wiped the sweat from his forehead with it.

“In twenty,” Tony confirmed.

If he spared one unnecessary look at Bucky’s abs it was only because Tony was human and the abs were divine.

It was unavoidable.

*

They watched Bratislavan traffic camera feeds on the flight to Slovakia. They looked at maps. They pinpointed some locations and half-made a plan. Tony wasn’t going to be wearing the suit, but the suit wouldn’t be far away and he had his watch so if things went all to hell, the suit would come to him quickly.

About five minutes before they landed, Tony pulled on a black hoodie, a navy blue hat, and some aviator sunglasses.

“That’s your disguise?” Bucky asked. He looked terribly unimpressed.

“Is that yours?” Tony countered.

Bucky was wearing a strappy black leather jacket and a glove over his metal hand. He very deliberately pulled a ball cap from his backpack and tugged it on, lowering the bill until it hid his eyes.

“Now it is.”

“Great,” Tony said. “At least we match.”

*

It didn’t take them long to find the tracksuit assholes. As luck would have it, a couple of them had done some work with AIM at the Mandarin Mansion and recognized Tony instantly _because_ of the disguise.

Fun times.

“Under the fruit stand. Now,” Bucky said, grabbing Tony by the arm and nearly snapping it with the force he used to shove Tony down under a long row of blanket-covered tables. Apples, plums and mangoes rained down around them.

A bullet missed Tony by an inch. Bucky fired off two bullets of his own and two men down the alley dropped dead. He ducked under the booth and joined Tony, pulling the table cover down over them so they weren’t quite as visible. There was enough light coming through that Tony could see Bucky pretty well, which meant they weren’t going to stay well-hidden for long.

“Shit,” Tony swore. "My watch is mangled. It’s not going to call the suit. At least not unless you’ve got some pliers, a battery and some dental floss in that backpack of yours.“

There were voices. Then more voices and a whole lot of footsteps. There were also sirens in the distance.

Bucky held a finger to his lips in the universal sign for ‘shut your pie hole’ as footsteps drew closer.

“You need to get out of here,” Bucky whispered. "I can take them myself.“

"Bad plan,” Tony said. "If you kill all of them who’s gonna lead us to Barton?“

"Fine, I’ll leave one alive to tell me where they hid him,” Bucky conceded. "You don’t need to be here for that. No offense, but you aren’t much use in a fight without your suit.”

The whole time Bucky was whispering, Tony fiddled with his broken watch. There were more footsteps in the street. A pause. A bullet ricocheted off the table above them. Tony held up the watch, glared at Bucky, and then flicked the watch out under the booth. It skittered noisily across the cobblestone alley and then an explosion shook the ground under them. Men screamed.

"You were saying?” Tony asked.

“Fine. You’re not useless. Here.” Bucky handed Tony his gun and then pulled out another from his thigh holster to keep for himself. “Try not to turn my gun into a bomb. We need it for bullets.“

"Fair enough,” Tony said.

They sat for another few seconds, both of them running best case scenarios in their heads. An escape would be easy except they weren’t trying to escape. Not exactly. They were looking for Clint and they were dealing with idiots.

“We should let ourselves get caught,” Tony said. "This is amateur hour. As long as they don’t kill us on sight they’ll take us to Barton and we can figure out a new plan from there.“

Bucky let out a huff. "This is the Stark genius I’ve heard so much about?”

“You got a better plan, Red October? Cause if you do, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, then tilted his head as he listened to what was going on outside. Counted the footsteps. Let out his breath. "If you get yourself killed, Steve’s gonna be pissed.“

"You’re afraid of Captain America?” Tony asked.

“No,” Bucky said. "Are you?”

“No,” Tony said. “But I don’t want to be the one to tell Natasha we let Barton die.”

"Good point,” Bucky relented.

"Come on. We can do this. Trust me."

"Fine. How do you suggest we let them know not to shoot?”

“Oh. This is going to be fun,” Tony said, a little too gleefully, since Bucky looked about ready to strangle him. "You wanted to see the Stark genius? Watch and learn.“


	2. The Chair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's jacket is a problem.

Chapter 2:

__

_"Fine. How do you suggest we let them know not to shoot?”_

_“Oh. This is going to be fun,” Tony said, a little too gleefully, since Bucky looked about ready to strangle him. "You wanted to see the Stark genius? Watch and learn.“_

*  
*  
*

“Stark genius, huh?”

“We’re alive,” Tony pointed out. "Very much alive. And we found Clint.“

"Yeah, found isn’t really the key here,” Clint groaned, from the wall, where he was chained with his shoulders bent forward at awkward and terrible angles. “Rescue Clint. You were supposed to rescue Clint. Not just find Clint. See the difference?”

“We’re rescuing you,” Tony corrected. "This is all part of our plan.“

Admittedly, so far not a _great_ plan.

Bucky was bound to a large metal chair that was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. His ankles were held to the legs of the chair with giant shackles and his arms were secured behind his back. And to add insult to injury, they’d left his leather jacket on him in the sweltering hot room and Tony could see Bucky was already looking overly warm.

In comparison to all that, Tony had it easy. He was secured to the same chair as Bucky by two short chains that looped from the chair legs to around his ankles and they’d ziptied his hands behind his back. Apart from the momentary humiliation of being stuck on his knees at Bucky’s feet, it really wasn’t all that bad.

"This wasn’t part of any plan,” Bucky argued, a hint of misery creeping into his voice. “And neither was this chair. I’m not a big fan of chairs, Stark. At all.”

Tony understood Bucky’s feelings about the chair. Tony had the same opinions on anything waterboard similar. Hell, something as benign as taking a spray of water to the face at certain angles could send Tony tumbling desperately out of a shower. He got it. They’d both been hurt and they were both fucked up. But no good could come from dwelling on it in the moment. This wasn’t group therapy. They would deal with chair-related trauma later. Tony’s best (and only) option was to distract Bucky and get them the fuck out of there.

“S’gonna be fiiiiiine, Buckaroo,” Tony said, purposely using the sort of nickname he knew Bucky despised. “Take a deep breath, focus, and then use your arm to break free. You can do it. It’s math. I can guess at the tensile strength of the shackles and it might be too much for your legs but you should be able to bust your arm out with one big--”

“I can’t move my arm,” Bucky interrupted.

"What do you mean you can’t move your arm. Your _metal arm_?” Tony asked.

“That’d be the arm I’m talking about, yeah,” Bucky said. He sounded miserable. “They put something on it.”

“Like a vise?”

“Like an electromagnetic bracelet,” Bucky guessed. "I don’t know. I can’t see it and I’m not the one with a doctorate in this shit. What’s it look like to you?“

"Don’t suppose Nat’s in the city somewhere?” Clint asked from behind them. “Wanda, maybe?”

Tony ignored Clint in favor of leaning up to try and get a better look behind Bucky. It wasn’t easy. The chains and the chair legs prevented Tony from standing, but if he put all his weight against the restraints and did a lot of balancing against Bucky’s thighs, he could lift up six or so inches higher than if he stayed on his knees. It hurt like hell but it did give him a better view. 

“You’re right, it’s electromagnetic. I can disable it but I’m going to need my hands free,” Tony explained. “Did they get all your knives?”

Bucky glared down at him, clearly insulted. “I’ve got one still strapped to my ribs, under my shirt. You any good at unbuttoning things with your teeth?“

Tony shifted back to his kneeling position and stared back up at Bucky. The distraction had worked. Bucky looked a lot more like himself and a lot less like a pony trapped in a burning barn.

"I’ve got some practice, yes,” Tony agreed. "But you’re talking about your current jacket with its approximately twelve billion buttons, right? Cause that sounds labor-intensive.“

"Some of them are snaps,” Bucky said defensively.

“Okay. But in what world is that number of buttons normal? Barton, back me up here.”

“They do seem a little excessive,” Clint agreed.

Bucky tried to turn his head enough to glare at Clint. He was bound too tight so he ended up huffing out a sigh and then staring back down at Tony.

“You gonna get on with this, sweetheart?” Bucky asked. “We ain’t got all night.”

Tony shot him his most withering look. Bucky had the nerve to laugh.

“I don’t suppose Bruce is like… waiting in the Quinjet or anything?” Clint asked.

“We’re the cavalry,” Bucky said. "If you’d like, we can leave your ungrateful ass once we’re free.“

Tony stopped glaring. He did like it when people gave Clint shit. And Clint needed the distraction of some petty arguing as much as Tony and Bucky did. Snark was good for morale.

"So I just what? Start at the top and work my way down?” Tony asked.

“Them’s the basics,” Bucky agreed.

“Geez, Stark. All these questions make me think this is your first time,” Clint chimed in. “You want some pointers?”

Tony gave him both middle fingers from behind his back.

There was really no way to get to work that didn’t involve a bit of stretching and a whole lot of wedging himself between Bucky’s knees. It was awkward from the start. Especially once Clint started humming a bad seventies porn soundtrack as Tony got his mouth on Bucky.

And making matters worse, Bucky was tense, so every time Tony’s weight shifted, Bucky’s thighs would tighten against Tony’s sides automatically and it was like some awful adolescent sex dream and Tony’s body (his traitorous body) (his prick was a _prick_ ) reacted accordingly. Tony couldn’t believe he was even the slightest bit turned on by what he was doing but he was. And from what he could feel pressed against him, Bucky was too.

“Your buttons taste like sweat,” Tony complained. 

Tony knew it took him way too long to get the first one undone. If he didn’t pull his shit together they weren’t going anywhere for days.

“No one said you need to lick them like a kitten,” Bucky scolded. "Use your teeth.“

"Yeah, use your teeth,” Clint interjected. "Really get in there. Be rough.“

"You want to shut your damn mouth?” Tony asked Clint. "Some of us are working here.“

"I don’t know how much work you’re doing, but you’re both breathing awfully hard,” Clint said.

And god, he was right. The room was so hot and they were both wound up tight as springs. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s not every day Tony got on his knees for someone, and all the bondage and the teeth and– whatever. 

It was unreal. Tony needed to focus. He took a deep breath and plotted out the task at hand.

Buttons. Snaps. Buttons. Straps. Get to the knife. Cut the zip ties. Disable the magnet. Wiggle free. Rescue Clint (maybe).

All doable. Tony just needed to focus.

“Am I the only one sporting wood over this?” Clint asked. "Because I’m not gonna lie. This is doing stuff for me that hasn’t been done since I was a teenager. If I had a camera right now I’d end up richer than god.“

Nope. No rescuing Clint. Tony was now resolute and adamant, they were leaving his pervert ass.

Time dragged on. Tony struggled through each and every button. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Tony grumbled, as he got down to the second to last button. “I swear to God, Barnes, I am burning this jacket and the one I buy you to replace it is going to be strawberry flavored and held together with velcro.”

Sweat dripped down Tony’s forehead. He’d given up being embarrassed by the proximity at least twenty minutes previous. At this point his face was at crotch level and he was basically rooting around in Bucky’s lap like a dog going after peanut butter.

That Bucky was hard was of little consequence. It was a biological reaction. After all, Tony _was_ practically mauling his lap. No. Bucky was off the hook. That Tony was so incredibly turned on by it-- well, that was way more his own issue.

“So basically you’re going to make Bucky a stripper outfit?” Clint asked. “This day keeps getting better.”

“Shut up, Clint!” Bucky and Tony shouted in unison.

“You’re the one always bitching that I don’t appreciate your genius,” Clint pointed out unhelpfully. “This is me appreciating it. Bucky stripping is your best idea yet.”

Tony paused. Not because Clint hadn’t made a good point (it was an appealing mental image) but because there was something off about Clint’s voice. It had been obvious for the better part of the last half hour that Clint was in serious pain. Now there was more to it than that. His voice was weaker. Tony bent so he could look around Bucky to see Clint.

Barton was a pale, sweaty mess.

“Shit,” Tony swore.

“Give up on the buttons,” Bucky said. He must have noticed Clint’s tone, too. This had gone from moderately funny to really fucking serious. “You should be able to pull my shirt up like it is now.”

It took some tugging and some uncomfortable bending that was going to leave Tony aching later, but Tony did manage to yank Bucky’s shirt up with his teeth, and then use his tongue to nudge the ultra-thin-spy-knife loose from its sheath and _then_ tug it free with his teeth. Then there was more awkward moving and bending and twisting so that Tony could help Bucky position the knife between his knees. Tony tried hard (come on Clint is in trouble stop thinking about sex) not to notice the sort of thigh strength it took to keep the knife in place as Tony turned around and then shifted up and down to cut himself free of the zipties.

Tony was completely out of breath from the exertion of it all when a minute later the zipties finally split and he was free.

Tony still had to deal with the chain around his ankle, but that was easy with the use of his hands. He used the knife to cut off a sliver from the ziptie, then used the ziptie to pick the lock on the ankle restraint.

“Get Barton down from the wall,” Bucky directed. “I’m fine.”

Tony scrambled to his feet. His whole body hurt but adrenaline and a good look at Clint got him moving in a hurry. He used the same ziptie sliver to pick Clint’s locks, and in the process managed to set off some kind of alarm.

“Of fucking course,” Tony groaned.

Clint collapsed against Tony and apologized as he struggled to right himself.

“Take it easy, Clint. I’ve got you,” Tony soothed. He gently lowered Clint to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

Tony moved over to Bucky, and after a look figured the arm would have to wait in favor of freeing Bucky’s ankles first. He managed to get the first ankle free without any trouble. The second one took longer as the ziptie Tony’d been using as a lockpick finally cracked and he had to whittle himself off a new one. He’d just managed to get Bucky’s second ankle free when the door to their cell flew open.

Three men ran in, all with raised guns.

“Freeze!” the first man shouted.

“Ohhhhhhh that’s a bad idea,” Tony said, in a sing-song voice, drawing their attention as he stood and moved to stand behind Bucky. He hoped it’d look to them like he was trying to use Bucky as a human shield. 

Clint must have picked up on Tony’s plan because he groaned loudly and dramatically from his spot on the floor which drew the bad guys’ attention and their aim.

“Before you do anything stupid, think this through,” Clint said weakly. “You’ve got us beat, that’s for sure. You win. So you really don’t wanna shoot Stark. He’s worth billions alive and he’s worth zero dead. Think what you could do with a billion dollars, guys. Buy better track suits, for sure.”

The distraction worked and Tony was able to quickly pick the lock that held Bucky’s wrists in place. When Bucky’s wrists were free, Tony moved to stand in front of him, putting himself between the bad guys and his friends. He put both of his hands up in the universal sign for _hey, don’t shoot_. 

“I do have a pro-tip for you though,” Tony said, so they’d point his guns back at him and take them off Clint. “Don’t ever yell ‘freeze’ at a guy who’s spent most of his adult life in a cryogenic chamber. You want to know why?”

Because these idiots were just as stupid as they looked, one of them took the bait. 

“Why’s that?” he asked.

Tony didn’t respond, just threw himself to the side without warning, so no piece of him was going to be between them and Bucky. And just as Tony had hoped, Bucky had it handled. He was no longer attached to the metal chair, and the metal chair was no longer attached to the floor, which made it one hell of a weapon. Even one-armed (the metal arm was still unnaturally still) Bucky was incredible.

The guards fell like broken toys as Bucky swung the chair: one-two-three. Tony stared, momentarily lost in appreciation for the grace and power in Bucky’s movement. “Bad _ass_.”

Behind them, Clint groaned for real and it shook Tony free of his thoughts. Thinking better of wasting any more time gawking, he rushed to Clint’s side.

“Did I do good?” Clint asked, through obvious pain.

“When we get home I’m gonna buy you an Oscar,” Tony assured him.

Bucky relieved the guards of their guns as Tony hooked his arm around Clint’s waist.

“M’gonna need you to support yourself at least a little,” Tony urged Clint as he helped lift him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

Bucky rushed out into the hall. There were footsteps and yelling and then shots fired.

“Get your asses up and move,” Bucky shouted back at Tony and Clint. He poked his head back in the door and looked exasperated that Clint and Tony weren’t sprinting after him already.

“Not super soldiers,” Tony reminded him. “Doing the best we can here.”

Bucky shoved his bangs out of his eyes and jumped back out into the hall. This time the gunshots rang out before the footsteps got anywhere close.

It wasn’t easy going but Tony would give Clint an A for effort. How he stayed on his feet as they chased after Bucky was a mystery. What was no longer a mystery was why Natasha kept him around in the first place. Clint Barton was one tough son of a bitch. 

With some concerted effort they finally caught up to Bucky, who was just fucking people up left and right. When he would run out of bullets in a gun he’d throw it like a projectile weapon and crack someone with it right between the eyes. Tony watched him do that three times in a row. Never in his life had he been more inappropriately turned on, and that was even counting the turn on earlier of slobbering over a galaxy’s worth of buttons.

Once they were free and there was no one left alive to follow them, they didn’t have to go far. Bucky led them purposefully to a neglected, shuttered hotel a few blocks away. 

It was late. It was very dark. Bucky seemed to have a sixth sense for breaking and entering and he guided them down several silent flickering-light hallways before he picked the lock on a room close to the stairs and let them in.

The room contained one bed, a beat up dresser, and loads of plaster on the floor. Light came in from the street, filtering in horizontal lines through several dozen broken blinds.

Tony helped Clint to the bed and Clint collapsed.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“Better now,” Clint agreed. “They didn’t break anything. Just beat me up mostly. The pain is muscle strains I think. Fuckers weren’t too worried about my comfort. It’ll pass.”

“What about you, Terminator?”

Bucky’s focus was on the electromagnetic bracelet that he was trying to yank off with his human hand. “I can’t get free.”

“Come here. Sit. Let me do it,” Tony said.

Bucky complied and took a seat on the mattress next to Clint. Tony climbed onto the bed too, carefully since he wasn’t sure it would hold all three of them. When it was clear it wouldn’t collapse, Tony moved around Bucky and took his arm in hand so he could manipulate it into better light.

The tech was pretty basic and with tools it would have been no match for Tony. Since tools weren’t available, Tony had to resort to using his fingernails and then his teeth, and then all the strength he had left in his fingers. 

A few more swear words for luck and one giant yank and the bracelet came off.

Bucky let out a sigh of relief.

“Was it hurting you?” Tony asked. He hadn’t considered that it might be and he felt guilty that he hadn’t prioritized it in their cell.

Bucky’s expression was unreadable. “I’ve had worse.”

“Should have gotten it off you back there.”

“Eh-- the Stark genius was busy with other projects. It happens.”

Tony gave Bucky a light shove (it didn’t move him even an inch) and then flopped down onto the bed next to him with a sore sigh.

“What I said earlier,” Bucky said. “About you not being much use without your suit. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“I wasn’t offended,” Tony said. “Steve said the same thing on our first mission.”

“Yeah, but Steve’s a punk,” Bucky said with an affectionate smirk. “I’m not.”

Tony laughed and then winced as he laughed because his entire torso burned. 

He glanced around and could tell from a single look that the telephone wasn’t going to do them much good. It wasn’t plugged into the wall, for one, and the wires had all been stripped from the cord, for another. Tony could work with that. But it would take time and he was exhausted.

“How impossible is an hour of rest before I make that mess into something that can call out?”

“We’ve got time,” Bucky said. “I’ll keep watch. You rest.”

Tony was too tired to point out that Bucky should rest as well. All the adrenaline and exertion had caught up with him. 

He crawled up the bed to take the pillow Clint wasn’t using. It was quiet for a while and then Tony snapped to alert when Bucky jumped to his feet. Though Bucky’s wariness only lasted a few seconds before Tony watched his shoulders relax.

“It’s the team,” Bucky said.

“It’s about damn time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! You can also find me on Tumblr at [OrbingArrow](http://orbingarrow.tumblr.com)!


	3. The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes to check on Tony the day after their escape and fluff and smut ensue.

When Tony heard the door to his bedroom open he didn’t want to open his eyes. Didn’t want to talk to Jarvis and ask how long he’d slept or who it was that had come to bother him. Didn’t want to do much of anything but stay in the warm cocoon of comfortable unawareness for another few minutes.

“If this isn’t coffee or a booty call, come back tomorrow,” Tony grumbled into the darkness.

“What do I win if it’s both?”

Tony went from near dead to very much awake and fighting a smile in a matter of seconds. He rolled toward the door, ignoring the twinge of pain at his ribs.

“Close the door behind you and I’m sure we can come up with something good. J, bring up the lights?”

Jarvis was merciful and the lights brightened slowly as Bucky hip-checked the door to swing it closed. He was holding a glass of water in one hand, a thermos of coffee in the other and he was dressed in his pajamas, which made him look soft and warm and inviting. And more promising than that was the hungry way he stared at Tony. Like he had _plans_.

“No jacket today?” Tony asked. He couldn’t stop smiling. It was just surreal that Bucky (who’d never so much as been to his private floor) was standing in his room. In pajamas. With coffee.

“Figured I’d go ahead and make this easy for you.”

Bucky walked to the bed like the room was his and he belonged there. He put the water and the coffee down on the bedside table and then sat down at Tony’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let me help you up,” Bucky offered. “You’ve got to be sore.”

“I’m fine,” Tony said. Which he really did believe to be true until three seconds later, when he attempted to sit up fully and his abdominal muscles decided yeah, that wasn’t happening. “Son of a bitch. Ow.”

Bucky gave Tony a look that very clearly said _told you so_ , then slid his metal arm under Tony’s back and eased him forward like he was as light as air. Bucky grabbed multiple pillows, fluffed them up and stuffed them behind Tony so he’d be propped up more comfortably. The close proximity had Tony one hoop skirt away from a swoon.

“Better?” Bucky asked. He reached over for the coffee before handing it to Tony.

“Much. Thank you.”

Tony also silently thanked Bruce, who’d taken the time to button Tony into striped red pajamas before tucking him into bed the night before. If it weren’t for Bruce’s efforts, there would be nothing at all hiding what Bucky’s brief touch had done to him.

Tony took a long sip of his drink, paused, then looked up inquisitively. “Is there whiskey in this?”

“Thought it might help with you bein’ sore,” Bucky said. “I can dump it and get you regular if you want. Guess I shouldn’t have assumed--”

“No. I like it,” Tony insisted, drawing the thermos a little closer to his chest. Maybe it wouldn’t have been his first choice, but this nurturing side of Bucky was new and amazing and Tony wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize it.

He’d seen Bucky do this before, sure. He was always the first to take care of his friends and the last to take care of himself. It was just until this morning, Tony’d only ever seen that conscientiousness aimed at Steve and Natasha. It felt like a hard-won honor to have it focused on him.

Bucky reached into a pocket and pulled out a bottle of pain pills. “I’ve got these, too. Bruce sent them up and said they’d be fine with the alcohol. They’re doing wonders for Barton.”

“How _is_ our damsel in distress holding up this morning?”

“Sore. Bruised. Enjoying everyone’s attention way too much. He’s making up at least half of what he says happened yesterday, but watching them try and figure out what was the truth and what was a lie was way more entertaining than setting the record straight.”

“You don’t mind the team thinking there’s something going on here?” Tony asked.

Bucky shrugged. “The way I see it, Barton’s doing us a favor. Now we aren’t gonna have to play Rock, Paper, Scissors for who’s gotta be the one to tell Steve.”

Tony laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

He reached out for the bottle, opened it one-handed and shook two pills out onto his tongue. Without thinking, he swallowed them dry. Bucky looked absolutely scandalized.

“Me and pills have a history,” Tony explained.

Bucky reached for the water anyway. “Still can’t be good for your throat. Drink.”

“Is my throat something you’re worried about?” Tony asked, before gulping down some water.

“I can think of a coupla reasons why I might have a vested interest, yeah,” Bucky said, before moving to rest on Tony’s thigh.

“I can think of more than a couple,” Tony said. “Though it could be a day or two before I’m gonna be back on my feet. Or well-- knees.”

“You did enough of that yesterday,” Bucky said. “It’s my turn to take care of you.”

Bucky moved his metal hand up over Tony’s hip and then slid it under his pajama shirt. He let his fingers splay out over his stomach then chest, and then he curled them slightly so he could trace a few fingertips down Tony’s rib cage.

“Shit-- that feels incredible,” Tony mumbled. “Whoever made your fingers did a fantastic job with the dual-touch force actuator. Must be real smart.”

“You know you’d think that,” Bucky said. “But it took him a helluva long time to realize I had a crush on him. Pitifully long. Like even-Banner-had-figured-it-out-a-month-ago long.”

Tony sat up with a start and stared down at Bucky with surprised eyes. That couldn’t be right. Things between them had been so awkward. Every time Tony tried to talk to Bucky, Bucky couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Never wanted to make eye contact. Seemed like he had things he wanted to say but would trail off and not say them... Oh. Ohhhhhh.

“Yeahhhhh, normal human interaction really isn’t within my area of expertise,” Tony admitted.

“Then it’s a good thing me wanting to sleep with you is probably the most normal human thing about me.”

“You always been this much of a charmer?”

“You’ve got no idea, pal.” Bucky’s mischievous smile was worth undoing every damn button on that jacket. “Now lie still. This won’t be any fun if you hurt yourself.”

Tony nodded, intending to comment but losing his train of thought as Bucky moved to straddle his thighs. And once Tony was pinned under him he leaned down over Tony, supporting his weight on his metal arm while he let his other hand trail up over Tony’s pajama shirt.

“You have no idea what you were doing to me yesterday,” Bucky said, in a low voice. He leaned in more, so he could place a few kisses on Tony’s temple and then trailed kisses down his cheek. “Every time you went for another button all I could think about was your mouth and what better things you could have been doing with it and what I wouldn’t give to make that happen, even once.”

“I was right there with you,” Tony admitted. “Five more minutes and Clint would’ve got his wish. Live action porn, right in his cell. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone more.”

Bucky laughed into Tony’s neck and then nipped at his skin lightly. Tony couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped his lips.

“Think those pain pills have kicked in?” Bucky asked.

Tony shifted his weight up a little off the pillow and all he felt was mild discomfort. “Seems like it.”

“Good,” Bucky said. “Because I’ve been waiting to do this since you got me out of that goddamn chair.”

Bucky leaned down to Tony’s shirt and expertly undo the top button with his teeth, like he’d been practicing the skill since he was old enough to get a guy in bed.

He looked up at Tony with absolute victory in his eyes and then it was Tony’s turn to laugh.

“You look like you think you won, but if anyone’s the winner here, it’s me. You’ve been waiting for a day. I’m gonna be out of this shirt in 30 seconds.”

“Oh, this ain’t going anywhere fast,” Bucky said. “Fair’s fair.”

Tony had only a few second to process those words before Bucky slid his hand up under Tony’s shirt and began lightly trailing it up his side at the same time he started sucking, and kissing, and nipping at any skin exposed by the top button’s loosening.

“I’m going to take my time,” Bucky promised. “Make sure you’re as wound up as I am. Drag this out until neither one of us can think straight, and then I’m going to give you a blow job that’ll have you seeing stars. Any objections?”

Tony shook his head vehemently. “No. No objections. Just--” Tony paused. He hated this part. Hated himself for even bringing it up but if he didn’t then when Bucky realized and was disappointed-- “Just don’t get your hopes up too much about what you’ll see under my shirt. Kind of a mess there, because of the arc reactor and it’s fine-- I-- know you won’t care--”

“I'd be some kind of hypocrite if I did. You know I’ve got plenty of scars of my own.”

“Yeah, and abs that more than make up for them,” Tony filled in.

“Get that thought outta your head,” Bucky said. “Because there is nothing about you that’s gonna disappoint me. And I’m gonna enjoy proving it. We good?”

“We’re good.”

True to his word, Bucky seemed determined to appreciate Tony reverently. Greedily. Button by button. Tony couldn’t remember any partner he’d ever had taking that kind of time with him. Bucky explored every available inch of skin and nothing in his actions or expression made Tony feel like he was anything less than desirable.

Once Bucky finally-- _finally_ made it down to the last button he switched his position, moving off of Tony’s thighs to kneel between his knees. 

“I will build you a flying car,” Tony rambled. “Blot out the sun. Blow up Mars. Buy you Antarctica. Anything. Anything, if you will just start moving.” He meant every word.

“Not trying to be part of your super-villain origin story,” Bucky said, his voice nearly as muddled as Tony’s. “And all my patience is spent. I want you so bad. Look at you. How could I not?”

The answer to that question was lost as Bucky made good on every promise.

\----

 

***EPILOGUE - One Month Later***

Clint thought Barnes’s new jacket was fantastic. It wasn’t velcro like Tony’d threatened back in Bratislava and it definitely was not meant for stripping, but it was armored, and badass, with all kinds of neat features and a surprising number of buttons considering Tony’s vehement bitching.

Clint wasn’t jealous of the jacket because Tony’d promised to make Clint one next. Something about owing him, which Clint didn’t question, because frankly, he got shot at a _lot_ and a bulletproof jacket would come in handy. Plus, Stark had said he’d sew in a tracker so the next time Clint got himself nabbed over a pretty girl they could hunt him down in a hurry.

Seemed smart.

Barnes spent a lot of time wearing his new jacket, so it had taken some clever maneuvering on Clint’s part to separate Bucky from it, even for just a few minutes. And okay, so clever maneuvering was more like begging Nat and bribing her with vodka. It got the job done.

At the moment, Barnes and Stark were off with Nat so she could show them a dent (arrow ding) she’d “found” on the Quinjet, and the jacket was propped over the arm of a chair in the common room.

Clint glanced around furtively and then made his move. He walked (parkoured) between the furniture, cautiously picked up the jacket and flicked his tongue over a button.

Strawberry flavor.

_Bitchin._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [OrbingArrow](http://orbingarrow.tumblr.com) and as always kudos and comments are MUCH appreciated and always inspiring!


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